Your old name was better.

Did you contribute
to the death of wisdom.
I did.

|Disrupting the way of things,
disobeying the nature
of the falling dominos
that I push.
Intercepting the brick
before it hits my back.
It is not your brick, man.

This leash to your ascension.
That I knoweth you covet.
Pattern of your one real death.
What had ruined your name,
what has changed it.

Too personal.
But that is what you do.
Too personal?

Cheap shot:
you’re a leach.
A bulimic leach.
How you suck in then
spit out so much.

You’re an unsuitable knife
here slashing my stone, man.
Slicing your oil like butter.
Somehow not getting sharper.
And after all this time.

Now is your time.



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